It had been a very, very long time since I'd woken up feeling quite this content and comfortable, and so it was with a great amount of internal protest that I opened my eyes.
Buffy was indeed laying with me, her head laid on my chest, my arm keeping her clutched tight against me. There was, I thought I saw, a tiny smile on her lips, and I felt her chest move in slow, deep breaths.
The sky outside the window was dark. I couldn't see the alarm clock properly without disturbing Buffy again, but I did know it was sometime after six o'clock. I settled into the covers and closed my eyes again, trying to sort out just what had brought us both to this particularly contented state.
I'd made love to Buffy. That much I knew, and recalled with my typical Watcher clarity of detail. There had been an attraction building since she'd arrived, really, and the numorous times we'd spent 'making out' attested to that. What I hadn't noticed, though, was the surprising amount of affection that had spilled from us both this afternoon.
So much, in fact, that I'd asked her to stay with me. And in thinking about it, I knew that was exactly what I wanted. I felt a pang, then, remembering that my heart had been in such a very certain place not long ago. But then, things change, and perhaps I'd healed that hurt, that loss more than I knew I had.
I felt Buffy begin to stir, and I opened my eyes, placing a kiss on the crown of her head, and decided I wanted to watch her wake.
((Open to Buffy.))